


Get Better Already

by therjolras



Series: For My Friends [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, Science Bros, sick!fic, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:44:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therjolras/pseuds/therjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann is sick. Newton is tired of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Better Already

**Author's Note:**

> For Jo, who also is ill.

_Scratch, scratch, scratch, cough. Scratch, scratch, cough. Scratch, cough, scratch, scratch, cough._

“ _Hermann_. What’s up over there? You need, a drink, maybe, or, Idunno, a gag?”

“Very funny, Newton.”

“No, seriously. That coughing’s driving me up the wall, is there anything I can do to make it stop?”

“I don’t know, Newton. Maybe… _shut up_?”

It was Newton’s turn to snort. It was their usual pattern of dialogue: slightly annoyed, backs turned, each immersed in their work, with some problem the main subject. Today, it was Hermann’s persistent cough. It would probably be something else tomorrow. He went back to a large portion of Kaiju carcass, doing his best to ignore his grumpy friend the mathematician and his persistent coughs.

~~~

_Scratch, cough. Scratch, scratch, cough. Cough. Cough cough._

 

“Will you  _please_  stop?” Newt demanded, turning to look across his chaotic workspace at Hermann, then regretting it. Unlike the day before, the other man was nearly pale as ghost and there were dark circles around his eyes. It made for a terrifying glare, even from Hermann. “I’ll have you know, Newton, that even a minor illness does not heal on its own, and if you want to get rid of a cough, the best cure is a peaceful workspace. Now, if you don’t mind, will you please shut up--”

“Hermann! Alright! I’m sorry! No more talking. Promise. Ease up a bit, okay? Ease up. No more talking.” Newt threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender, quickly turning back to his work. “Sorry. Sorry. No more talking.”

“ _Newton_.”

“Sorry!” Newton picked up his tools, doing his best to ignore the nagging feeling of concern for his labmate.

 

_Cough, cough. Scratch. Cough, scratch. Scratch, scratch, scratch, cough. Scratch, cough._

_Damn_  it, Newt.

Newton set down his tools quietly, looking over his shoulder at Hermann. The other man was working feverishly at the blackboard, every few scratches of chalk interrupted by a cough. Newt slipped out the door and into the hall, closing the door behind him. Other personnel bumped shoulders with him as he made his way through base, muttering apologies or saying nothing; ranger teams made their way past in clumps, talking and laughing amongst themselves as if no one else existed. Rockstars. Newt felt a twinge of jealousy at the sight of them, but then tamped it down; he had other concerns.

He rapped on the doorframe to the medbay, looking around. The nurse on duty (nametag titled Cara) looked up when he came in, smiled, and raised an eyebrow. “Doctor Geiszler, I believe?”

“Just Newt,” he replied. “Only my mother calls me doctor.”

“Ooohkay… Newt,” Clara said. “What’s up? Feeling a little under the weather?”

“Actually, no,” Newt replied. “It’s a friend of mine-- okay, friend’s an overstatement. It’s my colleague Hermann, he’s not feeling the best. I think he’s got a cold, but he looks like the ghost of christmas past and sounds like… I don’t even know. There anything we can do for him? It’s distracting.”

Cara raised another eyebrow. “You’re concerned, aren’t you?”

“No! I-- well-- okay, fine, I’m concerned.” Newt slumped on the counter and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head once. “Looking like the ghost of Christmas past and sounding like shit will do that to your labmate.”

Cara chuckled. “Sounds like it, Newt. Well, I think the best thing you can do for Doctor Gottlieb is get him a cup of tea, something to calm him down. From what I’ve heard of K-science, it sounds like a stressful division, and these illnesses like what Doctor Gottlieb has apparently acquired do easily occur via stress.”

“Well… thanks, Cara,” Newt said. “So… tea.”

“Yes, tea,” Cara replied. “I think we might have something back here, hold on--” she got up and opened a cabinet, rooting around for a moment. “Here we are.” She extracted a box and handed it to Newt. It was rectangular, not even six inches long, made of thin cardboard. “Tea,” Cara said. “Put one in a cup with boiling water, let it steep. Pass it on to doctor Gottlieb, and tell him to ease up. Whatever he has will only get worse if he continues to stress.”

“Got it,” Newt said, giving her a half-salute with the box in hand. “Thanks.”

 

_Scratch-scratch-scratch-coughcoughcough. Scratch-cough-snap_

 

“Damn it,” Hermann muttered, climbing down from his stool to retrieve the broken chalk. He groaned as he bent to pick it up from the floor, scrabbling to retrieve it from under the stool, then straightened up again, albeit painfully, and found himself face-to-face with Newton, who was standing awkwardly on Hermann’s side of the line with a mug in his hand.

“Newton,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“Metaphorically, I guess,” Newton replied, running his free hand through his already ridiculously wild hair. “I, ah, went down to the med bay and asked if anything could be done about your cough. And, uh, they suggested tea.” He held up the mug. “This is for you.” He pulled an awkward face and set it down on the nearest empty surface, which seemed surprisingly easy for him. Perhaps if he stopped filling every possible space on his side of the room with _Kaiju bits_ \-- “You got them to make a mug of tea?” He asked. Newton went pink. “No.”

“Then what’s that?” He asked, leaning on a desk and pointing to the mug.

“Tea!” Newt replied.

“From whom?”

“Me, of course, idiot!” Newton replied, getting steadily pinker. “The nurse on duty told me how to make it, and I--”

“You made tea?” Hermann interrupted.

“Yes!”

Hermann straightened up and went to retrieve the mug, his shuffling feet the only sound; the two of them had suddenly fallen silent. Not hiding his wary expression, Herman picked up the mug and sniffed the contents. “If you’ve spiked this…” Newton snorted. “I want you to get _better_ , not die of _shock_.” Hermann arched an eyebrow, then took a sip.

Chamomile. Not so bad. He took another sip, then set it down. “Thank you, Newton.”

“You’re welcome,” Newton replied, first stuffing his hands in his pockets, then folding his arms awkwardly. “The nurse also said to tell you to stop stressing. It encourages stuff like… whatever you’ve got.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Hermann replied dryly. Newton nodded, unfolded his arms, shrugged, then hurried back across the line. “Welcome. Get better soon, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best,” Hermann grumbled. 


End file.
